When she cautiously pushed the gift over and looked at the man in front of her hopefully, Yang Mufan just raised his eyebrows tiredly, and then without even looking at the gift, he uttered a sentence indifferently: "Mu Wanqing,
I can see that Tang Moyu treats you well, if possible, marry him..."
boom--
At that moment, Mu Wanqing felt a huge thunder strike ruthlessly from the sky above her head, making her ears buzz.
She stared blankly at the calm and expressionless man in front of her, seemingly in disbelief.
Obviously before, he kept saying that he would not allow her to associate with other men or find a stepfather for his son.
Why today...
After a long while, Mu Wanqing's thoughts finally came to their senses.
She was about to ask "why".
However, Yang Mufan didn't give her a chance. He stood up suddenly and went straight upstairs without looking back.
Mu Wanqing straightened her back and sat stiffly on the sofa, looking at his tall and resolute but extremely indifferent figure who quickly disappeared at the top of the stairs. Tears suddenly rolled down her face without any warning.
Could it be that Yang Mufan really hates her so much?!
He wished that she would completely and completely disappear from his eyes and the world.
In fact, think about it seriously: why has he ever liked me, and why has he ever wanted you to be by his side?
Ever since he was little, every time she appeared, his beautiful brows would furrow deeply, and then he would ask impatiently: "Why are you here again? Are you annoyed..."
Just maintaining the same posture, motionless, Mu Wanqing didn't know until what time in the morning she sat, but she just felt: It was a quiet night, she was sitting alone in a large and quiet villa, and it was freezing cold.
The kind of cold gradually penetrated from the skin to the bones and blood, and she felt as if her soul was about to freeze into ice.
When the ancient pendulum clock in the living room sounded a faint tone of four in the morning, Mu Wanqing exerted a little force on her legs and tried to get up and leave.
Unexpectedly, she was not allowed to move too much, and a rustling of footsteps suddenly came from the stairwell.
Hearing this, Mu Wanqing suddenly turned her head and looked towards the stairwell.
However, when she saw the figure standing at the corner of the first and second floors, the light of surprise that burst out from her eyes instantly fell into the never-ending darkness.
She stared hard at the figure at the top of the stairs, her eyes empty and lifeless, turning red bit by bit.
At this time, Wen Xiaorou was wearing a men's shirt, lazily but with a woman's unique charm, leaning on the guardrail, slightly raising the corners of her lips, with a victor's attitude, looking down condescendingly and keeping her movements stiff as she stood up.
Mu Wanqing is there.
Wen Xiaorou, who was only wearing a shirt, and her long, straight and slender legs stung Mu Wanqing's tear ducts, which had finally recovered, and felt pain again.
She knew that shirt: it was the one Yang Mufan had just put on. The cufflinks on the sleeves had not even been taken off yet.
"Wan Qing, it's so late and you haven't gone home yet." Wen Xiaorou casually brushed her wavy hair hanging behind her back and spoke provocatively, "Mu Fan said he was too tired and thirsty just now, so he asked me to go downstairs.
